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THE RECOGNITION. 

A Drama of the Fifteenth Century, 

{For Male Characters Only.) 
By a. L. 

With Stage Directions, 

Casf of Characters^ Relative Positions., Costumes., Synopsis of Scenes., etc. 



Edited and Pubi.lshed hy 




Q OA'^JuiHAAAAJiAJ 



NOTRE DAME, INDIANA 

UNIVERSITY PRESS. 

1885. 




[SPECIAL LIMITED EDITION.] 
PRICE, PER COPY, 50 CENTS. 



THE RECOGNITION. 

A Drama of the Fifteenth Century, 

{^For Male Characters Only.) 
By a. L. 

With Stage Directions, 

Casi of Characters., Relative Positions, Costumes., Synopsis of Scenes, etc. 



Edited and Publishkd by 



J®geph ft. LlY®RS, a. M. 



i FEB 28 1885/ 

NOTRE DAME, INDIANA^ ''^'^^V' r^'*'^ ' 

UNIVERSITY PRESS. 
1885. 



^<=> 



# 

Copyright, 1885, 

JOSEPH A. LYONS, A. M., 

Notre Dame, Indiana. 



TMP96-007341 



PREFACE, 



THE plot of the play is simple, as it turns on the recogni- 
tion of a son after several years' separation from his father. 
The scene is laid in Italy, in the fifteenth century. The Duke 
of Spoleto, indulging in one of those feuds which seem to 
have been the greatest luxury of the "bold old barons" of the 
time, had an idea of w^aging war against the Prince of Ma- 
cerata, who, in case of the death of the duke's son, would be 
the legal heir to the duke's possessions. 

The first scene of Act First opens immediately after a battle 
between the troops of the prince and those of the duke. The 
duke loses the battle and his son. To prevent the prince 
from becoming his heir, he reports that his son was only 
wounded, and seizes Antonio, th'e son of Count Bartolo, con- 
veys him to one of his castles, persuades the boy that Count 
Bartolo, his father, knows where he is, and in course of time 
tells Antonio that the count is dead, and that he (Antonio) 
shall be henceforth his son and heir, and adopt the name of 
Julio. Count Bartolo all this while is searching after Anto- 
nio, and, convinced that he is in the hands of the duke, takes 
sides with the Prince of Macerata. 

The chances of war go against the prince ; he is forced to 
retire to the city of Macerata, is then killed, and Bartolo suc- 
ceeds him in command. In the meantime, Antonio is taken 
prisoner by Bartolo's men, and cast into prison without being 
seen by Bartolo, who supposes the captive boy to be the 
duke's son. Hoping to check the duke, Bartolo sends him 
word to retire from the siege of Macerata, or that his son will 
be put to death. The duke, instead of withdrawing, presses 
the siege more eagerly, thinking he can take the city and 
secure Bartolo before the injured father can see his captive son. 

But Bartolo sends for Antonio, whom he takes to be Julio, 



PREFACE. 



the duke's son, and, of course, when he appears, is at once 
recognized by his father and all present. At this time, the 
duke rushes in with his soldiers, attempts to seize Antonio, 
is frustrated in his design, receives a death-blow, and dies, beg- 
ging pardon of Bartolo for the injury he has inflicted upon 
him. 

This simple little story has been exceedingly well brought 
out in the various scenes. 



Dramatis Personae. 



Duke of Spoleto. 

RiccARDO, his Squire. 

Prince of Macerata. 

Count Bartolo. 

Antonio, his Son, a Boy. 

Balthazar (Arbalester), Friend of Antonio. 

Stefhano, Teacher of Antonio. 

Leonardo, a Soldier. 

Gratiano, ) p Friends of Antonio. 

Lorenzo, ) ^ 

GiAcoMO, Squire to Bartolo. 

Fabiano, Governor of Montefalco. 

Reginald, Officer of the Prince of Macerata. 

Paolo, a Jailer. 

ZuccHi, a Blacksmith. 

Andrea, a Squire of the Duke. 

Marso, a Soldier. 

Pietro, "^ 

Beppo, (Attendants of Bartolo. 

Pacifico, I 

Alphonso,J 

Orlando, Officer of the Prince. 

Alberto, "^ 

Gabrini, ^.,. 

^ ' V Citizens. 

Castello, I 

Orazzi, J 

Silvio, a Courier. 

Carlo, | 

Alfieri, >• Soldiers of the Duke. 

Almeno, ) 

Rafaele, ] 

Manfred, I Officers of the Prince's Guard. 

Angelo, ) 

Guards, etc. 



COSTUMES, 



Duke of Spoleto: First Costume. — Dark cloak, riding boots. Dark 
hat and crimson plumes. Act III., Scene I : Crimson and gold doublet, 
short cloak and trunk hose, cap and feather, pink silk stockings, shoes 
with diamond buckles. Scene III : Ducal coronet and robes. 

RiccARDo: First costume. — Dark cloak, etc., like the Duke. Secottd 
costume: Doublet, short cloak trunks, cap and feather, dark brown and 
amber. 

Prince of Macerata. — Short cloak, doublet, trunks, cap and 
feather, etc., in purple and white. 

Count Bartolo. — Same costume in maroon and violet. 

Antonio : First costume. — Boy's tunic and leggins — white, with blue 
scarf. Cap and feather. Second costume: Short cloak, doublet, trunks 
cap and feather, purple and gold. 

Balthazar. — Buff coat, and armor of the period. 

Stephano. — University cap arid gown — black. 

Leonardo, and the other soldiers of the Duke. — Buff coats, and armor 
of the period, with red facings and badges. 

Orlando, ajid officers oj the Prince's guard. — Same, with blue facings 
and badges. 

Attendants of Bartolo. — Same, with yellow facings and badges. 

Lorenzo. — Same as Antonio's second costmne, but in green and pink. 

Gratiano. — Same as Antonio's second costume., but in blue and silver. 

GiACOMO. — Short cloak, doublet, trunks, cap and feather in dark 
green and gold. 

Fabiano. — Short cloak, doublet, trunks, cap and feather in scarlet and 
white. 

Reginald. — Short cloak, doublet, trunks, cap and feather in dark blue 
and amber. 

Paolo. — Buff coat and armor of the period. 

ZucCHi. — Grey doublet and hose. Black skull cap. Blacksmith's 
leather apron. 

Andrea. — Short cloak, doublet, trunks, cap and feather — in crimson 
and gold. 

Marso. — Buflfcoat and armor of the period. 

Silvio. — Tunic and leggins. Cap and feather — light green and silver. 

Citizens. — Doublet and hose — parti-colored. 



Synopsis of Scenes, 



ACT FIRST— Scene First. 

The Duke and Riccardo in the mountains— Meeting with \ntonio~ 

Their Flight. 

Scene Second. 

Bartolo in quest of his Lost Child— His Grief— Appearance of the 
Prince of Macerata— Bartolo pledges himself to the Prince. 

ACT SECOND— Scene First. 

Lapse of three years— Antonio in the Fortress of Montefalco— His Re- 
flections—Balthazar in good humor— Pages plotting an 
Escape— Troubles of Stephano the Serious. 

Scene Second. 
The Duke's Orders. 

Scene Third. 

Escape of Antonio and the Pages— Their Recapture by Balthazar— Thej 

are sent to the Tower with Stephano— Sadness of 

Antonio— The Battle Raging. 

ACT THIRD— Scene First. 

The Duke's Soliloquy after his victory— The Mysterious Arrow found 
by Stephano— Report of Riccardo— Mission of Fabiano. 

Scene Second. 

Leonardo puzzled— Stephano's Nightmare— Stephano and Balthaza 

Reconciled. 

Scene Third— Royal Hall. 
The Duke names Julio his Heir. 



SYNOPSIS OF SCENES. 



ACT FOURTH — Scene First. 

The Besieged town — The Chieftain's Prayer — Bartolo's Address to the 

Soldiers and Citizens — Sad news of the Prince's Death 

— Capture of Julio. 

Scene Second. 
Scene in the Prison — Balthazar Caught. 

Scene Third. 
Tent of the Duke — Frustrated Hopes. 

Scene Fourth. 

Last Address of Bartolo — The Prisoners are brought before him — THE 

RECOGNITION of Antonio by Bartolo— Balthazar kills the 

Duke, who is forgiven by Bartolo and Antonio. 



STAGE DIRECTIONS. 



(The reader is supposed to be on the stag^e, facing the audience.) 



EXITS AND ENTRANCES. 

R. means Right; L., Left; R. D., Right Door; L. D., Left Door; 
S. E., Second Entrance; U. E., Upper Entrance; M. D., Middle Door. 

RELATIVE POSITIONS. 

R. means Right; L., Left; C, Centre; R. C, RiglU of Centre; L. C, 
Left of Centre. 



Prologue 



Our play, "The Recognition," lias been laid 
In olden times, when men fought blade to blade; 
Thej wore strong armor, cast in shining steel, 
Protecting all the form from head to heel. 
With breast-plate, gauntlets, and strong coat-of-mail, 
Visor and helmet plumed with feathers pale ; 
In fact, so different were the customs then, 
They must have seemed another race of men. 
Or, maj be not. No matter! In our play 
We find a Duke, whose son was killed one day; 
And by that death the Duke's estate will go 
To fill the coffers of his deadly foe, 
Macerata's Prince. This adds to his great grief; 
' How can I," cries he, " hide this from the chief? " 

We mark now wherefore he would fain avoid 
To let him know his son's life was destroyed; 
How, later, he was tempted to decoy, 
To kidnap, and to claim another boy, 
Antonio by name. His face is fair, 
And strong resemblance to the dead doth bear. 
He meets the Duke in an unguarded hour; 
The young Antonio falls within his power. 
Time rolls away. The Duke, to seal his plot, 
Tells the poor youth his father, loved, live» not. 

As Julio known, heir to his large estates. 
The stolen boy in ducal castle waits; 
Meanwhile, the injured father joins the fight, 
Defending 'gainst Duke Macerata's right. 

The Prince at last is slain. Now in command, 

Antonio's father rules Macerata's band. 

The boy, the Duke's hope, is a prisoner made, 

His jailers little dreaming that, betrayed 

By the fierce Duke, the slender, gentle youth 

Is their commander's son in very truth. 



to PROLOGUE. 



The injured father, sure that fettered fast 
He holds the fbeman's only son at last, 
Bids him retire : else, threatens to destroy 
The prisoner's life, that of the gentle boj. 

The Duke heeds not, but presses in hot haste 
Before the thread of his dark plot be traced ; 
Before the father shall have met the son: 
Determined his bold purpose shall be won. 

The youthful prisoner, summoned, stands amazed ; — 
Has his dear father from the dead been raised? 
They recognize each other, they embrace 
Just as the baffled duke has reached the place 
To meet his death-blow, for the truth is knozvn. 

Antonio, now an heir to ducal throne. 

Restored to friends and home, thanks from his heart 

The Blessed Virgin that she took his part. 



The Recognition 



ACT FIRST. 

SCENE I. 

Night — The moviatain pass— Wild scenery — To right foreground of stage 
a huge rock projects, at left back a narrow pass ascending from right 
centre to left, and thenc'^ across the flat— Duke of Spoleto and his 
companion, Riccardo, making their way stealthily from behind the 
rock, (r.) 

Riccardo. My lord duke, I think this is the way. 
i^He poifits out to the pass^ l.) 

Duke. Are you sure your memory does not fail you.? In 
this dark night even the chamois could not find his path. 

Rice. Yonder is the steep ascent. {Hearing- some noise^ L.) 
Do you hear that noise? Some one above is stirring. 

Duke. Stay! stay! Riccardo! — an enemy might lurk in 
these crags ; prepare your bow and be ready. 

Rice. Shall I shoot in the dark ? 

Duke. Listen, I pray, and be on your guard ; one false 
shot might expose us and draw the foe on our track. Better 
retreat to this obscure recess, and wait for what may come. 
( They reti'eat to the cavity in the rocks ^ r. 3 e. their eyes 
constantly fixed on one spot. ) 

Rice. My lord, I shall guard this narrow defile; one 
man here is as good as an army, and should a Maceratan 
show his armor, I — 

Duke. {^Inferriipting.^ Riccardo, if there is a time when 
bravery is out of place, it is now; spare your arrows and 
listen. {They listen. Steps are heard up in the pass^ l.) 

Rice. T distinctly hear footsteps; some one is coming. 
He stops. It is no soldier — it is the light step of a mount- 
aineer. 

Duke. {^Tistening an iitstant^ He must have overheard 
you, for he has stopped suddenly. Let him pass; disturb him 



12 THE RECOGNITION. 



not; no doubt he is some hunter returning to his cot, perhaps 
bearing- his prey, and feeHng his way in the dark. Do not 
show yourself nor discover your colors. In these days every 
man is, at once, friend and enemy. Withdraw to this cavity in 
the rock. Tell me, Riccardo, of the sad event which to-day 
has brought rum and death to my house and to me. ( They 
withd7'aw to the cavity hi front of the pi'ojecting rock^ r.i.e.) 

Rice. My lord, it is too painful to recall. 

Duke. Painful to me above all, Riccardo, yet will you 
refuse me this consolation in my bereavement? Where was 
Julio killed .? 

Rice. Just at the door of my tent, lord duke. I bade him 
seek safety there, and reluctantly he retraced his steps from the 
field, when an arrow overtook him — an arrow aimed by a 
cruel hand ! 

Duke. Was the shaft aimed at the boy ? Did the enemy 
guess it was my son ? Did he fall ? 

Riec. I saw him entering his tent, his hand grasping the 
W'eapon that had pierced him; there I lost sight of him. When 
I returned to the tent he had breathed his last. Orlando and 
I wrapped him in a cloak and carried him away. 

Duke. O Riccardo! Riccardo! it was little to lose the 
battle, but to lose my Julio — my beloved boy, my hope! — and 
to think that the Maceratan claims my estate —to think that 
he is my legal heir, — it is too much for the heart of a proud 
knight, and of a father! 

Rice. It is sad, my lord, sad to have lost him — worse than 
ten thousand defeats. 

Duke. {^Sighing with e??iotion.) Where did you leave 
the body? 

Rice. In the middle of the night we buried the remains, my 
lord, and placed a stone to mark the spot. The grave is under 
the large olive trees on the other side of the mountain. Are you 
satisfied that no one should have witnessed the sad ceremony? 

Duke. I am, Riccardo. The news of Julio's death would 
have given more joy to the base hearts of our enemy than the 
capture of Spoleto itself. I wish it be a secret to all till more 
propitious days shall dawn upon us ; but hark ! ( The sound of 
steps above ^ l.) 

Rice. It is the same step approaching. My lord, shall I 
go forth? 



THE RECOGNITION. I3 



Duke. Stay — listen! i^A beautiful song is heard^Y.^ What 
a clear, beautitul voice! It sounds like that of Julio; hear 
what he says. He is a boy — no doubt a mountaineer. Oh! 
such a brave boy clambering those rugged rocks must be a 
noble lad. Where are you going, Riccardo? 

(RiccARDO goes out of the recess^ the boy jumps from the 
rock^ c. and -finds himself in the presence of ^\qck\\T)0\ both 
view each other in amazement ; Riccardo is about to shoot. ^ 

Duke. ( Coming to the boy, c.) Hold, Riccardo! 

Antonio. Oh, pity! Do not kill me, pray! 

Duke. Be not afraid, my lad; your charming voice at- 
tracted us, and v^e wondered that in such a dangerous spot 
anyone could be found at this hour of the night. Why did 
you sing? 

Ant. Sir, I remained longer than usual in the mountains; 
the deer absorbed my attention so that I forgot the lateness of 
the hour, and nearly lost my path. I sing at times, when I am 
alone and afraid; I thought T heard someone speaking, and 
to calm my fears I sang. 

Duke. Is there anyone here of whom you might be afraid ? 

Ant. So far as I know, you and your companion are kind 
and of good birth; may I ask your name? 

Duke. I have the right to ask yours first, child. 

Ant. Antonio, sir, is my name. 

Duke. It is a beautiful one; it is also that of your father, 
no doubt. 

Ant. No, sir; my father's name is Count Bartolo, whose 
castle you may have seen yonder on the mountain. He is now 
awaiting me; would you desire to pass the night under our 
roof? 

Duke. There are reasons to urge me on now; our army 
is moving, and, to meet it, I must go through this rocky 
path. Riccardo, how remarkably like Julio this boy is! 

Ricc. He could play his part well and serve your designs, 
my lord. 

Duke. {Aside to Riccardo.) Riccardo, this amazes me; 
could not this boy be my Julio, restored to a new life? Do 
you not believe that such a thing could be? 

Ricc. Dream not, my lord, nor let your reason be confused 



THE RECOGNITION. 



by false imaginations. This lad is like Julio in form ; his 
voice has the same mellow accents, but his age, my lord, his 
age — he is younger by some years. 

Duke. Enough, Riccardo. I am resolved to try even 
this unjust policy to save my name. ( To Antonio.) Boy, 
the name of your father is familiar to me. Why, Riccardo, 
it was Bartolo at whose castle we rested but a few^ hours ago; 
it was he who led us down the steep road, and marked out 
our path through these defiles. 

Ant. My father— do you know him? Was he anxious 
about me? 

Duke. It was three hours ago, and he showed no anxiety 
about your delay, beyond the meaning that his last words 
conveyed. "My son," said he, "is now in the mountains; 
should you meet him, Antonio is fearless and sure; bid him, 
in my name, to direct you, and even accompany you as far as 
you desire." 

Rice. He uttered those words; I remember them distinctly. 
(Aside.) I may just as well confirm the assertion of the duke. 
I see his aim, although I hate a lie. 

Ant. Well, my lords, you may command me in my father's 
name ; pray, tell me your own, that T may remember his 
friends. 

Duke. The Duke of Spoleto is my glorious name, child. 

Ant. ( Withdrawing l. aside.) Never heard it men- 
tioned in a friendly manner in the halls of my father. 

Duke. And in my companion behold the first knight of 
my dukedom, Riccardo of Otranto. 

Ant. (Aside.) Still more obscure to me. (A/oiid.) My 
age and my little acquaintance beyond these mountains will 
excuse my not knowing you, my lords; you are the friends 
of my father; I will accompany you, even as far as Spoleto. 

Duke. Once there, we will send a message to your hon- 
ored father. 

Rice. It is a cruel theft, which no gold can repair; such 
a fine youth ! 

Duke. This is the wav up the mountain {pointijig out.^ c.) 
is it? 

Ant. Yes; let me go first, please your Excellency. 

Rice. I see lights below; some one is on our track. [All 
look.. L.u.E.) Boy, there are brigands in these places. 



THE RECOGNITION. 



Ant. We will soon be out of their reach; come, follow me. 

Rice. These men are the soldiers of the prince. May we 
avoid them ! ( They ascend the mountain rocks and disap- 
pear. R.u.E. Music.) 

SCENE II. 

Enter (l.u.e.) on the Stage, from behind the projecting rock of foreground, 
old Count Bartolo, Giacovio, his squire, four or five attendants, all 
of whom carry torches and seem absorbed, searching hither and thither 

Bartolo. Gently, my faithful attendants ; search diligently. 
Do not tread upon him; he may be asleep. 

All the Attendants. No doubt, my lord, sleep has 
overtaken him somewhere about here. 

GiAcoMO. ( To Attendants.) Do the bidding of our 
lord. (^ Aside.) He may have fallen in a pit. Merciful 
God, save him from danger! 

Bart. ( Comes in front of the rock.) Here, perhaps, in 
this recess; bring your torches. ( They find aiz arrow.) An 
arrow here! Some one has passed here, then. [They crowd 
upon each other to look at the arrow.) 

GiAc. Hunters, my lord, frequent these passes, and no 
doubt this arrow was dropped ; it was not used. [Lookiizg at 
it.) 

Pietro. My lord, I shall climb to the rocks above; I know 
the path well; there is a cliff which only agile feet can as- 
cend. Perhaps he has fallen in the dark. 

Beppo and Pacifico. We also shall go with him. This 
is a sad adventure. 

Bart. Spare no pains, good men; search every nook and 
crevice. Whoever brings my Antonio shall receive his ample 
reward. 

GiAc. Poor Antonio! his absence sorely is felt. The halls 
of the castle are deserted; mirth is gone, and we are on these 
cliffs instead of in our peaceful couches. 

PiETRO. {^From the rocks above.) My lord, his scarf! the 
blue scarf his mother gave him — the blue-colored sash of the 
Virgin! — He has left it here. 

Bart. His sash, do you say? Bring it to me. Is that all 
you can discover? 

Beppo. It is so dark we cannot see. 



THE RECOGNITION. 



pACiFico. Search is vain before the dawn of day shall 
penetrate these dark places. ( They continue searching. The 
1ST Attend., having come down^ brings the scarf to the old 
man., who., pressing it to his heart and lips., exclaims : ) 

Bart. Blessed memento! how dear to me! How you 
grieve me! Sad token of my absent son! 

GiAC. My lord, it is not torn; it was unlaced by his own 
gentle hand; on it no mark of violence is visible. Perhaps it 
prevented his progress, or endangered his steps. 

Bart. No doubt you are right; in vain I vex myself: my 
son may have already returned to the castle by another way. 

PiETRO. My lord, all further search is unavailing in the 
dark. I may grieve you, perhaps, if I say there is no other 
way than this to the castle, and therefore it would be foolish 
to fancy that Antonio, our young master, has returned. 

Bart. We shall come again to-morrow, when the light 
of day shall encircle these -wild mountains. We will now go 
home. 

GiAC. My lord, we would expose our lives in the attempt. 
We cannot go back before the daylight. Rest here on this 
fallen trunk of a tree, and try to forget your sorrow in quiet 
sleep. 

Bart. Be it as you say, Giacomo. ( Goes to the log., R. 
assisted by GiACOMO., sits.) Fatigue overpowers me! Alas! 
may God save my Antonio, and preserve him to his father! 
( The Attendants draw around silently to look at the old 
Tnan. ) 

Attend. How sad it is to see him so exhausted! Our 
dear old master! ( They continue looking on.) 

GiAc. Put out the fires, men, and go to rest. (x\ttend- 
Ants extinguish their torches., and together sing., softly.) 

All the Attendants sing: 

Break not his soothing slumbers, 

His soul is charged with grief; 
Fresh woe his heart encumbers, 

Sleep brings him fond relief. 

Duet. Perhaps he now is dreaming 
Of his noble, darling boj, 
His eye with bliss is beaming. 
Let not a sound destroy 

Chorus. The short but sweet delusion, 
The respite he is taking 
From sorrow's cold intrusion, 
That waits his sad awaking. 



THE RECOGNITION. 



( They fall asleep^ and silence reigns. ) 

Bart. {^Reclining on the shoulder of Giacomo, dreams^ 
and talks in his sleep.) Antonio, beware — beware the pit! 
Ah! Antonio, come back! What, you would take him away? 
Stop, men! stop! Antonio, escape! ( IVakes, haggard and 
terrifed.) Giacomo, is that you? Oh! I had a horrible 
dream! I beheld Antonio taken away by the troops of the 
Spoletan. [Rises.) It is possible. 

GiAC. Nay, my lord, more than possible; it explains all. 
Fearless as he is, Antonio would now be at home had no one 
intercepted him. [Enter the Prince of Macerata, 
L. 2 E. with a long suite of lords and attendants^ the latter 
bearing torches. The atteiidants come in frst., and look dis- 
trustfully on Bartolo and his men.) 

1ST Off., Reginald. (l.) [Shouts the password.) 
Macerata forever! 

Attendants of Bartolo. (r.) Macerata forever! We 
are friends. 

Prince, (l.) Who are these men? What are they 
doing, lingering about these passes? 

GiAC. (r.) Lord prince, listen to my words. We owe to a 
sad accident our presence in these deserted regions. Our noble 
count, Bartolo, whom you behold, has lost his son, and in 
search of him we came with the purpose of ascertaining the 
fate of the boy ; but we have as yet no clue. Here is the only 
indication of his having passed this way. [Shows the scarf.) 

Prince. Count Bartolo, I sympathize with you in your 
affliction; your loss grieves me, because it must grieve any 
father, and my sympathy is all the stronger since you have 
ever been a staunch friend and supporter of my house. My 
men shall search every recess where your son might be con- 
cealed; and whether dead or alive, if he is on these mountains, 
they shall bring him to you. 

Bart. Thank you, benevolent prince. I know what you 
would readily do for me were my Antonio on these mount- 
ains, but in my judgment he is not; he has been kidnapped. 

GiAc. The Spoletans, my prince, fled through these mount- 
ain-passes. They need men or they need vengeance, and 
they would not shrink from the murder of a child. 

Reginald. Your implied conjectures are very probable, 
noble prince. 



l8 THE RECOGNITION. 



Prince. {^Stopping to consider a moment.') Yes, you 
are right. Even if no trace could be found which would 
mark the boy's passage, except this scarf, it is evident that he 
has been through these defiles, and my escort has not met him 
below. I can see no other way of explaining this sad event 
except that your son, noble count, has been stolen away by 
the banditti of the Spoletan. 

Bart. {^Aniinated.) I would rather see him dead than subject 
to such a servitude! and for me, old as I am, I will gird my- 
self for battle, and for the deliverance of my Antonio. Woe 
to his betrayers! God knows my distress. He sees how crushed 
my heart is, but vengeance now nerves mv arm ! 

Prince. I will undertake your cause, worthy count. With 
all my heart I will come to your assistance; follow me with 
your men, and success shall surely crown our efforts. 

Bart. Rely on me and my attendants; my troops are at 
your command; to-morrow fifty spears shall be added to 
yours, and as many footmen shall side with your braves. 
Once more my old armor shall gleam out on the field of battle, 
and the cry of my youth shall urge my men to the combat 
{shake hands) to-morrow. To-morrow I shall join your stand- 
ard. Adieu, all — adieu. 

All. To-morrow! Macerata forever! {^They depart^ 
the Maceratans going up the pass., and Bartolo, with his 
attendants^ leave by the side at which they entered, (l.u.e.) 
Orchestra plays while they dissappear.) 



ACT SECOND. 

SCENE I. 

A handsome apartment in the fortress of Montefalco — Antonio (c.) 
alone, dressed in rich garments — Books on a table — He stands up, 
looking at an arrow which he tries on a bow. 

Antonio {^no^v called J vi^io). My arm is quite enfeebled 
by its long rest. M}^ hand seems unskilled as when I first 
began to shoot at the target in my father's hall. Once I 
could pierce the swift chamois; strength and skill wel-e mine; 
but now, I confess, I am ashamed. Old Stephano is the first 
cause of it. Why, if I follow his advice, 1 shall do nothing 
but study, nothing but recite. It is no fim to have him beat 



THE RECOGNITION. I9 



me when I miss my lessons. He will come along with five 
or six books, then look at me above his glasses. I guess he 
means to scare me first, so that he may conquer me afterward. 
Then he will put me such questions as I never dreamt of be- 
fore. Dear! what have I to do with the Babylonians? They 
are dead long ago, and nothing to me. Stephano thinks that 
everybody is born to read books; well, I am not, surely. Here 
is my duty for to-day. Ah! no, it is my father's last letter. 
{Kisses it.) My dear father, it is little to know that you are 
well only by your messages, but the duke has informed me 
that my father will soon be here; the letter alludes to it, does 
it not? Let me see. {Reads.) "Dear Antonio " — or, rather, 
'^ Dearest Julio." [Stops.) Why did my father change my 
name, I wonder? Antonio was his pet name, because my 
mother's name was Antonia; but perhaps, as I am older, he 
thought that Julio would be more befitting. " 'Tis the name 
of an emperor," says Stephano, and he insists that Antonio 
is only a poor fisherman's name. Now this is not true; there 
zuas iin emperor of that name: I read that in his big books. 
But let me read; yes, here it is: "Be of good cheer and study 
well; fit yourself for the high rank which God calls on you 
to occupy. I will soon judge of your progress; in the mean- 
time I leave you under the care of God and the kind protec- 
tion of our good duke." Well, well, this means what I said; 
father will soon be here; the duke told me so with his own 
lips. Oh, he is very good to me; he wants me to call him 
father, and it is very strange; I feel as if he held my father's 
place. I love him, too; but now I must call Lorenzo and 
Gratiano, my dear companions; I am sure they must be on 
the terrace together. Oh, that good Balthazar! I laugh at 
his fun: hi, hi, hi! I am sure I can induce him to let me out 
of the castle down into the camp, where my father will be 
soon. Yes, I must bargain with him; we can all go without 
being seen by anybody. Suppose the case that he should be 
on guard at the postern during the next night. He will not 
mind us. [Gayly.) Then I would shoot, gloriously, that 
arrow over the battlements. (Is abotit to shoot., when Bal- 
thazar a jovial soldier., comes in. (l.i e.) 

Balthazar. [Pretending to ward off the arrow.) Ho, 
young milksop ! these things must not be trifled with. 

Jul. Dear Balthazar, I meant no harm — at least to you ! 
how glad I am to see you ! 



20 THE RECOGNITION. 



Bal. You are very good to say so, little one. 

Jul. I can see no goodness in saying what I feel for you. 

Bal. Julio, my boy, I am eternally obliged to you ; but 
listen to me : this is no place to shoot. 

Jul. I waited for you, Balthazar ; I thought you forgot 
our shooting exercise this morning. Were you not on the 
terrace with Gratiano and Lorenzo? 

Bal. (Seizing the arrow.) No, boy ; I was hurriedly 
despatched by Fabiano, our commander, to your father's 
camp below; there is news of an approaching battle. All is 
bustle and commotion. I ran back as fast as I could, and 
have been busy all the morning polishing my steel bow and 
other playthings. This toy of yours is good for practice, but 
would not do in a battle. (^Spiritedly.) Give me my cross- 
bow, and just hear the tw^ang of its metal string; aha! 

Jul. (Afraid.^ Why, Balthazar, you chill me. I thought 
I was brave. Do soldiers use the crossbow with those sharp 
steel points? 

Bal. Ay, lad ; it gains ground every day, in spite of their 
laws and proclamations to keep up the yewen bow, because, 
forsooth, their grandsires shot with it, knowing no better. 
You see, Julio, war is no pastime; men will shoot at their 
enemies with the hittingest weapon and the killingest, not 
with the longest and the missingest. 

Jul. Then these new engines I hear of will put both 
bows down; for these, with a pinch of black dust and a 
leaden ball and a child's finger, shall slay you Mars and 
Goliah and the Seven Champions. 

Bal. Pooh, pooh! Petronel nor harquebus shall ever put 
down Sir Arbalest. Why, we can shoot ten times whilst 
they are putting their charcoal and their lead into their 
leathern smoke-belchers, and then kindling their matches. 
All that is too fumbling for the field of battle; there a sol- 
dier's weapons must be always ready, like his heart. 

Jul. O Balthazar, I delight to hear you speaking to me 
in that way. I think that by your side I would fight like a 
lion! 

Bal. You would swoon, I believe. No, I recant, Julio; 
you are a brave boy, but I cannot promise you that. Hush! 
some one is coming — Doctor Stephano, methinks, with his 
garrulous croaking. At your books, Julio; there, the thun- 



THE RECOGNITION. 21 



derbolts are approaching; au revoir. (Balthazar rushes 
out on tiptoe by another fassage^^.u.^. Lorenzo and Gra- 
TiANO enter ^ r. 3 e., in a great hurry and zvith gay faces.) 
Jul. (^Attentive to his books, seems drawn from his studies 
by the ari'ival of his unexpected friends.) Oh, what a sur- 
prise! Lorenzo! Gratiano! the noise you made frightened me. 
I thought it was old Stephano's Hght steps I heard sounding 
in the hall. {^Laughing.) Well, what news? 

LoK. Did you not hear what all the world knows? 

Grat. Well, Julio, we are simply surrounded by sol- 
diers; the plain below is full of them, and more are coming. 

Jul. Yes, Balthazar told me just now. 

Lor. Balthazar! Was he with you? can it be possible 
that he has returned? 

Jul. (/;? lozu voice.) Friends, do you wish to leave this 
place of confinement, and see the battle? 

Grat. To be sure. I am ready — I will fight too. 

Lor. Oh, what sport! Do you think we can elude the 
vigilance of Stephano? 

Jul. We can gain Balthazar over to us. Oh, I wish I 
could go there! My father will be engaged in the battle. 

Grat. Let's jump over the walls. 

Lor. I can get a rope-ladder and place it on the walls, 
where it will reach the rock. 

Jul. Yes, on the postern at the eastern wall. 

Grat. There is a guard there, watching all night, and 
you know sentinels have been doubled at all the posts. 

Jul. Well, the best way is to go disguised with Bal- 
thazar. Wait, perhaps he has not left the next hall; I will 
bring him here. This must be decided now, this very hour. 
{Exit., R. u. E.) 

Lor. We will wait impatiently; ho! some one is coming. 
Heavens! it is Stephano! [Enter Stephano, r. 2 e.) 

Steph. [Coming., solemn and severe., with books under 
his arms.) Ay, ay, I heard some noise in this room. What 
do I behold? — Lorenzo — Gratiano — here, and {looks around') 
where is Julio? Did you make this uproar alone? 

Grat. Good doctor, excuse us for the noise that you have 
heard ; 'twas not meant to disturb your peace. 

Steph. Your hilarity I condemn. It is unbearable. Ah, 
young men, learn to be grave. {They laugh.) Withal, do 



23 THE RECOGNITION. 



not turn up your nose at my remarks. It is that grim, sturdy, 
middle-a^ed burg^her Balthazar that blows the flame betwixt 
Julio and me, and sets you on. I have watched you, m}^ lads, 
this while. Ay, you may stare. 

Lor. Good doctor, we mean you no harm. 

Steph. Say no more; begone! begone! 

Bal. {Rushing in^^.\5 .^.^with his bozv.) Oh! oh I the enemy 
will retreat with bag and baggage. [Perceiving' Steph ano.) 
Oh, 'twas an ambuscade! this old fox is not the ass he pretends 
to be. [To Stephano.) Oh, pardon, doctor! I fain would 
have recognized you in the full glory of your scientific mantle. 
I meant to pass without disturbing anyone. [Goes out across 
the stage. Exit., l. u. e.) 

Lor. and Grat. Pardon, doctor, we will not aisturb you 
any longer. [Exeunt.^ 7niinicking him., r. i e.) 

Steph. (/;« passion.) Young scapegraces, you will have 
your reward. [Sees them gone.) At last I may have peace 
and be alone while Julio is returning. My books — " Dulce 
otium!'''' Yes, my only friends, with you I have no war, no 
troubles : but, perhaps, I have been too hasty in rebuking those 
boys. Horace says that anger spoils everything, and Plato is 
not less positive in afiirming that an ounce of choler is sufii- 
cient to poison a whole day's good. They are my scholars, 
and I owe to them an example as well as to Julio; but in such 
times as these in which we live everything is upset; no talk 
but of battles; nothing but a constant uproar and cries of 
alarm. [Excited.^ They speak of a battle, of a siege, as if 
we were all going to be slain; reports are abroad that the 
fortress may be carried by assault. Then, what will become 
of me? The saying of the poet, '•''Dulce bellum inexpert is ^1'' 
does not apply to me; I see no fun in cracking the skulls of 
others, still less in having mine split. But where is Julio? 
Can it be that he forgets his class-hour? Julio is growing 
tall; his mind is fast maturing, and the tinkling of an armor 
brings fever to his brain; 'tis born with him, and all my say- 
ings have been fruitless to divert his mind from the dangerous 
use of arms. He was not so four years ago, when his noble 
father sent for him a few daj^s before that sad disaster of 
Arnoli, where he lost his chivalry in dreadful encounter with 
the Maceratans. Since that time the report of harquebuses 
pleases him, and my philosophy is at a discount. ( Cannon. 
Stephano jiunps., frightened; soldiers rush in., r. 2 e.) 



THE RECOGNITION. 2^ 



Leonardo. ( Wit/z Jiis arms full of muskets?) Quick, 
signer doctor! quick, scamper! — No soul idle here while 
there is a musket to fire. The enemy is on us, the battle has 
begun; up with us on the walls. (Gives him a musket.) 

Steph. Oh, Heavens! what can I do? I cannot fight; you 
know I never fought in my life. 

Leon. No exception, no useless mouths here. The com- 
mander's orders, at the postern, every one. 

Steph. Oh, yes, here I go! [Soldiers leave r. 2 e.) Dear 
me! what can I do? (He leaves^ yi.2¥^.^ hurriedly -, handling 
azvkzvardly the gu7i. ) 

Scene IL 

A Field. Duke and Riccardo discovered. 

Duke. This is the solemn moment, Riccardo, in which 
success may crown my arms, or reverse and destroy my hopes. 
The Prince of Macerata intends a bold stroke at us; it is evi- 
dent that his forces are well equipped and numerous. Monte- 
falco was not designed by him for a point of attack; ill- 
defended as it is, it could scarcely be esteemed by him worth 
the battle which will soon decide its fate. I see in this move- 
ment more than a desire to carry the fortress. I see the hand 
of Bartolo. 

Rice. Bartolo, my lord! How could he know that this 
is Antonio's retreat? 

Duke. Beware, Riccardo! More than one traitor have I 
seen around me. Although the trusty men who have de- 
fended this castle for three years weave a sure network 
around Julio, yet I cannot forbear thinking that Bartolo has 
a clue to our most secret designs. 

Rice. Then, my lord, may I receive your directions in case 
of a fatal turn of affairs? Suppose that the enemy succeed in 
driving our army from the walls? 

Duke. In this case — may God avert it! — here is a key, 
Riccardo; give it to Fabiano; it will open to him and Julio 
the door of the secret passage. 

Rice. (Receiving the key.) I understand, my lord; but 
if he were killed in the combat, what then? 

Duke. I did not think of that, Riccardo. What we must 
defend, above all, is Julk). Let Fabiano remain by him and 
ward off danger from him. Entrust to Balthazar the com- 
mand of the fortress; no better hands ever leveled the arbalest. 



34 THE RECOGNITION. 



Mind my orders; let no enemy discover Julio. Adieu; I re- 
join my knights. {^Cannon are heai'd again.^ They press 
hard on us, 1 see; adieu; rejoin me promptly. {He leaves 
hu7'riedly^ R. u. e.) 

Rice. It is my prince's orders; I must obey. Strange 
events! Fortune, methinks, hovers above our heads; 'tis a 
mysterious eagle, now^ selecting a prey; justice claims its due. 
What I may do to protect Julio will avail little, I fear. But 
where is he? I must be away and have him taken out of 
danger. {^Exit^ r. i e.) 

[Enter Balthazar, l. 2 e.) 

Bal. [In bad humor.) By the helmet of Mars, our pike- 
men are no better than a row of milksops! As for me {bend- 
ing his cross-bow)., I'll die like a man, and the first coward of 
a renegado — . [Seeing Leonardo rushing in., r. 3 e.) 
What is the matter now? [A cannon is heard.) Ah! they 
are men at last; well, if this is no cheat, there will be a trifle 
of a battle. Well, Leonardo, why do you stand here like an 
idiot? What news do you bring ^ 

Leon. [Scarcely able to speak.) Julio is missing; we 
have searched all the fortress. Oh, what will our lord the 
duke say? 

Bal. What is the matter now? Shall we tumble off our 
perch when we have nearly won the day? Why, man, you 
will frighten everyone. Julio cannot be out of the castle! 
Did you peep into his room? I'll go bail he is with that 
Nebuchadnezzar, Stephano. 

Leon. [Afraid.) Stephano keeps aloof; no one has seen 
him the whole evening; some say that he has slipped into the 
well. [E7zter Marso, r. u. e.) 

Marso. (Zb Balthazar, r.) Your honor, a rope-ladder 
hangs dangling from the wall at the postern ; some treason, 
sir! 

Bal. Aha! aha! this is a night fairly blowing. Get away, 
idiots! I know the mystery of that ladder; the young scamps 
did not wait for me to saunter off. Quick! follow me; Julio 
and the pages have made for the camp below. [Exeunt., 
L. u. E., hastily.) 

[E?iter Stephano and Fabiano, l. i e.) 

Steph. [Peevishly.) How could I help it, your honor? 
Could I watch him in the dark? Julio has been away from 
me the whole day. 



THE RECOGNITION. 25 



Fab. My orders, sir, were that you should have your eyes 
on him all the time. 

Steph. So have I done till this horrible day, sir. 

Fab. Think not to excuse yourself, sir; you are respon- 
sible for any accident vs^hich may befal Julio. I vs^as to receive 
him from you, in obedience to the duke's orders; and when I 
sent for you, you were fovmd on the top of the tower. Is this 
doing your duty ? 

Steph. Indeed, sir, I will tro to the end of the world to 
find him; he cannot be gone. 

{Enter Leonardo, i..) 

Fab. What news, Leonardo? 

Leon. Julio has been found, your honor, down the rocks, 
ready to leap over the ditch. Loronzo and Gratiano were 
with him. Oh, sir, it is not Julio's fault. 

Fab. Who arrested him, that I may reward him? 

Leon. 'Twas Balthazar, your honor; he caught his cross- 
bow and commanded them in the duke's name to stop or he 
would shoot them dead. 

Fab. What! did he shoot them? 

Steph. Oh, horrible! left them dead! 

Leon. No. ( Zb Stephano.) You are dead, you. {To 
Fabiano.) He did, your honor, but did them no harm; it 
scared them when they saw that he was in earnest. He shot 
ahead of them. 

Step. Oh, good Heavens! here they come, (^^/^r Bal- 
thazar wih a Soldier, bringing in the boys^ l. u. e.) 

Bal. 'Twas not too soon to give the alarm, my lord. The 
young scamps were nearly out of sight, but it is not their 
fault. If the watch had not been snoring away, they could 
never have crept out. May I ask you to forgive them ? 

Fab. The offence is too serious to be overlooked. Such 
foolish action in these present circumstances deserves an ex- 
emplary punishment. 

Jul. Signor Fabiano, I ask that all the chastisement may 
fall upon me. It was I who plotted our escape. 

Grat. It was I who fastened the rope. 

Lor. I gave it, Signor Fabiano. I procured it; without 
me no escape was possible. 



26 THE RECOGNITION. 



Fab. And I summon you to tell me where you found the 
ladder. 

Steph. ( Trembling.) It was I, my lord, it was I who 
had it. I had it concealed in my bed for my own use. When 
I went to — to — to — use it, 'twas gone — gone! 

Bal. Oh! ah! old Aristotle, this is plausible for your 
worthy neck; you are the only cause of all the trouble. 

Fab. (Aside.) Indeed, the whole affair turns out to be a 
farce. 

Bal. Your honor, command that the guilty be forthwith 
and peremptorily punished. 

Fab. Balthazar, I order that you take away Gratiano and 
Lorenzo, and lock them in the clock-tower with Stephano. 

Bal. The boys also, your honor? The old fox gets clear 
cheap. Come quick to your airy residence {^to Stephano); 
it will take a long rope to slip from there, but you will have 
a fine view of our game below. ( The boys and Stephano, 
with Balthazar, leave., r. u. e.) 

Fab. (71? Julio.) Julio, it grieves me to see your rashness. 
You went against your father's orders, and I blame you for 
the whole affair. Should the duke hear of it, you would in- 
cur his anger. 

Jul. My good Fabiano, forgive me — forgive my disobe- 
dience. I see how much I have grieved you. I alone am 
guilty; 'twas not Gratiano nor Lorenzo that led me; I did 
urge them on; I take all the blame on myself. I wanted to 
see my father, and — 

Fab. Your candor disarms me, Julio. I forgive you. 
{Pressing him to his breast.) You are frank in your con- 
fession. I understand your desire of seeing your father, but 
you know it is now too late; the battle still rages; all that you 
can do is to pray that God may protect him. Rest here dur- 
ing the night, and await the dawn of day in peaceful slumber. 
Adieu, Julio; I must be on the alert and send reinforcements 
to the duke. ( Cannon heard.) 

Jul. No sleep shall close my eyes while my heart is ach- 
ing. O my father! would that I might be with you in this 
dreadful hour! (Cannon. Kneels^ q.) Merciful God, extend 
your protection over him and over the duke, and bring them 
safe to me. (Rises., sings. Music from the opera of '-'•La 
Dame BlancheP^ 



THE RECOGNITION. 2^ 



Oh, kind are the friends around me here, 
And gentle, and constant, and trvie ; 

But my father — iny father so dear — 
There cannot be joy without you. 

My father ! oh, would thou wert here ! 

Then life would be sweet to my view, 
I sorrow, I sorrow, and mourn. 

Lest my home I may never more see. 
Oh, why from my home was I torn.^ 

Come, father, dear father, to me! 



ACT THIRD. 

SCENE I. 

The Duke's room in the fortress of Montefalco — Duke alone, eyes cast 
down, frowns, walks slowly. 

Duke. Thank Heaven, I am duke once more, with the 
brightest prospects before me! Spoleto reigns from sea to 
sea, except on that small speck of land on which stands Macer- 
ata. It was a bold engagement — yes, it was! My chances 
were few . His men, now slain and strewn on the plain by 
the hundred, were more brave than mine. The right was 
with them^ too. Spoleto! thy bravery alone saved thee, for 
justice was not in thy ranks. The soldiers who followed me 
knew not my motives. Glory was their incentive; ambition 
was mine! This is why even in the midst of my triumph 
I do not feel at ease. To their eyes I am happy, but in my 
own I am w^retched. Three years I have w^orked that — three 
years I have carried out a treacherous policy, and the edifice 
which I have built rests on the sand — on the discovery of 
Julio— Julio! {Sadly.) Yes! princely boy! He dreams 
not of my unjust dealings! He is all unconscious of what 
even a boy would regard as the greatest crime, unconscious 
of being stolen away from his father. Now Fortune smiles 
on me. I am sovereign of a vast domain. What shall I say 
to that boy? Shall I tell hmi that in the fight I met his 
father; that our lances were entangled, and that I threw him 
mercilessly on the ground ; that I saw his eyes gleaming with 
fire and vengeance; that his venerable brow was besmeared 
with blood, and that his raven locks kissed the sod? Shall I 
reveal to him what my ears caught from his lips when he lay 
prostrate on the ground? — "Robber of my treasure, tell my 
Antonio that the thousfht of dishonor rends the heart of his 



38 THE RECOGNITION. 



& 



father more fiercely than that of death!" Shall I tell him 
what he said when, abashed at the sight of my disarmed foe, 
I rode away — those words which ring in my ear even now? — 
"Go, bandit! God shall snatch thy preyfrom thee." {£nterSTE- 
PHANO, R.u.E.) Oh, this is what I heard, and in the very moment 
of my dear triumph those words resound to my ears above the 
shouts of victory. Yet the Fates bid me on. To delay would be 
to increase the danger of Julio's discovery. To recoil would be 
an injustice to my followers. I am forced to the deed ; the 
blood spilt urges me on. Would that at my last moments I 
could reconcile my actions and my conscience! Would that 
I could receive forgiveness from those I so cruellv wrong! 
[Perceives Stephano.) Ah! here, Stephanor What 
brings you here? (Aside.) Curse him if he heard me! 

Steph. My lord duke, I thought that something sad dis- 
turbed your mind. I dared not come in sooner. 

Duke. You heard me, did you? 

Steph. I could hear little of what my lord said, it bein 
none of my business to listen to the sayings of your Excel 
lency; but I thought I would usher myself into your presence 
and, unobserved, bring to you this strange message. [Gives 
him an arrow with a letter attached.) 

Duke. What can this mean? {Reads the letter.) You 
read it, did you ? 

Steph. T — did.^ your Excellency. It fell on the battlement 
of the tower, and came whizzing by my face; Lorenzo, Gra- 
tiano and I readmit. 

Duke. {Quickly.) Did Julio also read it? 

Steph. No, sir, only we three: we thought it might be 
of importance — perhaps some treason — and — . 

Duke. Treason, no doubt, good Stephano. I understand 
its meaning, but it is defeated by our victory — the traitor has 
been slain. You may retire with our thanks, Stephano. 

Steph. Shall I keep it secret? 

Duke. It becomes your age to be discreet, and for aught 
I know it is better not to make further mention of it. [Exit 
Stephano, r. u. E.y the V>\3Y^e flings the arrow outside.) 

Duke. Zounds! this would confound the most resolute! 
Double blunder! Fool that I was, to count with Bartolo! 
This steel shaft was sent by one of his spies, no doubt. Why 
did I not dispatch him when he was in my power? Can I 



THE RECOGNITION. 



29 



expect that he will now relent, and that he will value my 
momentary compassion on him, when I hold the dagger con- 
tinually pointed at his heart? It is a lamentable fault to 
have mercy out of season! Victorious as I am, I little know 
the risk which even now I run. Speed and vigilance are 
more than ever necessary. I must see if Riccardo has re- 
turned from the pursuit. Perhaps he may have overtaken 
the Prince and Bartolo. Oh, it would be well! Riccardo is 
unscrupulous. It matters not to him on whom he raises his 
battle-axe. i^Entcr Andrea, l. 2 e.) 

Andrea. Your Excellency, I come to announce the ar- 
rival of his honor, Riccardo; he desires an audience without 
delay: some important affair demands it, he says. 

Duke. Bring him in immediately. [Exit Andrea, l. 2 e. 
Returns with Riccardo^ and exit.) 

Rice. (Boxvs.) Lord duke, I come to make you aware 
of the result of our expedition. We arrived too late to pre- 
vent the enemy from entering Macerata. 

Duke. Your manoeuvre was too slow. 

Rice. Pardon, my lord. Rather say theirs was too swift 
for us, lord duke; they had the best horses; it was a close 
contest, though. 

Duke. Could you see them distinctly? You saw the 
prince and some of his courtiers; how many were they? 

Rice. My lord, I saw the prince plainly; by his side rode 
a venerable warrior; both were dashing directly toward Ma- 
cerata. 

Duke. [Aside.) It was Bartolo, I see — humph! (Aloud.) 
How many men had they? 

Riec. I could not tell, as I little heeded their strength; 
my object was to head them and cut them off; yet from the 
noise of their horses' hoofs, I should think there were at least 
five hundred. 

Duke. Riccardo, speed to give our orders ; everything 
must be ready for immediate departure; go, go! [Exit Ric- 
cardo, L. 2 E.) 

Duke. Five hundred men! why did he not say five thous- 
and, and at the same time tell me that Bartolo is no more? 
But he cannot escape. Macerata is a trap-hole where he 
shall be buried with his secret. Time is precious! I must 
see Fabiano. [AInsingly.) He must by this time have in- 
formed Julio of the pretended death of his father. Fabiano 



30 THE RECOGNITION. 



will tell him that Bartolo died bravely, fighting by my side, 
and that his last words were of his Julio — that he begged the 
duke to be his protector, his father. Ah, ah! All this looks 
very plausible, if the air of sincerity beaming on good Fabi- 
ano's face is added to it, for Fabiano believes it himself, and, 
forsooth, he feels the sad news deeply. Ah! here he comes. 
{^Enter Fabiano, r. i e.) Well, my good Fabiano, how did 
Julio receiv^e the cruel intelligence of his father's death? 

Fab. I would rather light two battles to one telling a boy 
of his father's death, hard-hearted as I am. 

Duke. [Hypocritically.) It is a sad duty to perform, 
Fabiano; 'tis enough to melt a heart of stone. Yet he knows 
it? You told him all — that his father died at my side, that I 
received his last words, and that he entrusted me with his be- 
loved Julio? 

Fab. I told him all I heard from your lips. I forgot noth- 
ing that would impress him ; indeed, when I drew the picture 
of that venerable knight, full of years and honor, dying only 
a few paces from his son, and yet denied the pleasure of see- 
ing him, I could not refrain from tears. 

Duke. I fain would weep myself. Did the thought that 
I would accept him for my son soothe his sorrows? Do you 
think he will soon forget that cruel bereavement? 

Fab. Forget Bartolo! Oh, how could he? I myself 
shall never forget this last interview with the boy ; yet the 
thought that there is one left to take a fatherly care of him 
seemed to check his tears and moderate his grief; whilst there 
is youth there is hope, and early grief is soon obHterated, 

Duke. Fabiano, receive my warm thanks for the sad duty 
you performed in my stead. It would have grieved me be- 
yond endurance to have told it to him myself. Receive again 
my warm thanks, and prepare everything for a speedy de- 
parture. In the meantime bid the courtiers and my household 
to meet in the great hall. Go! (^v/V Fabiano, r.ie.) It matters 
not to me when the secret is discovered, provided it remains 
sealed two weeks longer. Macerata once mine, and the prince 
disposed of, the people will be compelled to support me,whether 
I have a son or not. [Exit^ r. 3 e.) 



THE RECOGNITION. 3I 

SCENE II. 

(Leonardo enters r.i e., with bozved head^ zvalking slowly.) 

Leon. Now, it puzzles me to know how this arrow came, 
and who shot it. I saw it ratthng on the roof of the tower, 
hut the knave kept aloof; the rogues have not all gone, I'll 
wager. What was that fellow doing on the rocks below, 
keeping his eyes on me as if he knew me? I'll warrant the 
rustic meant no good, strolling about the castle. Perhaps he 
himself sent that arrow ; for when the stentorian voice of 
Stephano bellowed from the tower, the scamp cleared out 
through the narrov^ lane as if he saw sack and cord at his 
heels. {Enter Stephano, r.z e.) Ah, bravo, Signor Steph- 
ano! it was you who drove the last enemy from our premises. 

Steph. ( With an air of importance.') Perhaps I did. 
Master Leonardo. I was armed, too, and I would never 
swerve from my duty, sir — never! From the time I was a 
boy I always liked to chatter about battles and sieges. To 
hear the whizzing of arrows always woke me up, and the 
near approach of the enemy never failed to produce on 
me its wonted sensation. Oh, how often at night I have 
dreamed that I was engaged in the hottest of the fire, my 
helmet firm on my head and my body clad in complete armor, 
everybody shooting me! — archers shooting me ! — cross-bow 
men shooting me! — and I never minding to be shot, so that 
at last I would get so demoralized as not to know when I 
was shot. I would walk the battlements on fire, as some 
stout skipper paces his deck in a suit of linsey-woolsey, 
calmly oblivious of the April drops that fall on his woolen 
armor. Yea, my besiegers would get spiteful, and would 
waste no more good steel on me, and I would laugh — ha, ha! 

Leon. What avails it to be so brave in dreams, and hear 
your boasting when the battle is over, Signor Doctor? 

Steph. Hush, you unreasonable man! Do you think 
that I would seek the eye of the public, like that warlike 
vagabond, Balthazar, who would sling blazing tar-barrels if 
he could? God forbid! 

Leon. Disguise it as you will, sir, bravery is bravery, and 
this is what rid us of our enemies last night. 

Steph. Idle chat! idle chat! When you have slain all 
your enemies, and in the end lie a helpless corpse yourself, is 
your country the better for that? Are you the better your- 



32 



THE RECOGNITION. 



self? Was not Greece saved by the retreat of the Ten Thou- 
sand? Their retreat, sir, was commendable, and worthy of 
the admiration of all ages. 

Leon. And it was out of admiration for those Greeks that 
you hobbled to the tower's top in such a great hurry? — ha! ha! 

Steph. Ay! you call that hobbling? (^Peevishly.) It 
was a narrow escape for you as well as for me. For if the 
fellow had reached the loophole, — it chills my blood in my 
veins to think of it! But I kicked down the ladder, and the 
vagabond nearly broke his skull. Ay, sir, we all ran the 
greatest risk; I was at a loss for a minute whether to ily and 
hide myself, and let the place be taken by the ruffians, or, sir, 
to defend my post at the cost of my life, and play havoc 
among them: and this, with the help of God, I have done, 
for I spread panic in their ranks; — ay, and to increase their 
terror, I nodded at them, sir, and grinned at them; then, in 
defiance, I roared out at them, " Videa?mis quatndiu audebitis 
in hac a?^la moi'ari.'''' They shook like aspens, and stole 
awav on tiptoe — one by one at first, then in a rush — and left 
me alone. Then I lost all consciousness, and the next thing 
I can well remember is my waking up in the tower when 
Signor Fabiano sent you after me. 

Leon. ( Wondering^ aside.^ Ro - co - la, ra - ri! Fouah! 
These are the words I heard you mumbling, with your 
mouth wide open and your body all in a sweat. Such a gib- 
berish! It was a terrible nightmare, sir — ha! 

Steph. I never saw the like of it in Caesar or Xenophon. 

Bal. {^Entering ^ eying old Steph ano.) Ah! ah! old 
Beelzebub, it was your croaking that spoiled my shot and 
scared the game away. I would have stripped him of his 
doublet and jerkin, but your irreverent howling made him 
prance away, and so it went wide of him two inches. By 
Hannibal's helmet, I thought I would make another gap in 
the roof of the tower and make you converse with him by 
signs, but my respect for property, and the fear of hitting 
my milksops, nestling with vou, prevented my doing it. 
Zounds ! 

Steph. It would be little worthy of you, and it would 
make you none the braver to kill an old man after the battle 
is over. For my life I would give little. The arrow did 
not hurt me, although it might as well, to please you. 

Bal. What, then! did it harm the boys? 



THE RECOGNITION. 33 



Steph. I dared not give the alarm to the duke, but Lo- 
renzo was badly touched; I attended to him; he will soon do 
well. 

Bal. In truth, you are no peevish child, Stephano. I 
thought you were all skins and parchments, and I used you 
wrong, but now I confess I have been a boorish archer. 
Here's my hand, Stephano. Come to see the boys. Poor 
things! i must see that nothing is amiss with them. ( To 
Leonardo.) And you, popinjay, it is no time to look awry; 
go and pack up your traps. (Balthazar stai'ts to go^ r., but 
Stephano detains him.) 

Steph. (r., looking to see //"Leonardo is gone.) Balthazar, 
I have something on my mind to tell you. 

Bal. x\y, to me: anything you please, Stephano ; you 
have done me a good turn in tending that boy's wound. I 
am all ears to you. Why do you stare so strangely with 
your ashy face? 

Steph. {^Confidentially.) On the arrow there was a letter. 

Bal. Humph, a letter! and what was in that letter? Did 
you keep it? 

Steph. No, I would not cut my throat for what does not 
concern me; I took it to the duke. 

Bal. What! Did you not read it? 

Steph. I did. 

Bal. What did it say? 

Steph. It read in this way : " Antonio, I know that you 
are here; I will do all in my power to see you. — Bartolo." 

Bal. Some foolery, I will wager. And the duke laughed 
in your face, did he? 

Steph. No, he seemed very serious. It was a treason, 
he said. 

Bal. Oh, bah! By Jupiter, it was the knave who sent 
that arrow. No matter, I will think of it, Stephano; I will 
see if some time I can splice that on to something else. By 
the way, did you not mark how sad Julio looked to-day? I 
will venture to say the duke was informed, by some one, of 
his escapade. The wretch who did it deserves to be trounced. 

Steph. It was not I, Balthazar; I would not grieve 
Julio's heart for the whole of Montefalco. 

Bal. I know you well now, Stephano. Come, I will 
see what is the matter; come, everybody must be in the hall 
now. i^jBxeuni., r, i e.) 



34 THE RECOGNITION. 



SCENE III. 

The great hall — Duke on a throne with Julio — All the courtiers sur- 
rounding the throne— Balthazar (r.), Stephano (l.), the farthest 
from the throne. 

Duke. Nobles, and you of my household, be attentive to 
what I have to make known to you, and to all my people, 
whom you now represent. You all know the sad events 
which have marked the three years of disturbance and blood- 
shed brought upon us by unjust aggression from one nearlv 
related to me. You know his aim — with what a covetous 
eye he beheld our fertile lands and our prosperous towns. 
My efforts to elude his designs need not to be recalled. 
What you have done to assist and support me extorts my 
unfeigned acknowledgments and gratitude. With me you 
rejoice in our glorious achievements, the fruit of which you 
shall enjoy. Yet, even in the midst of our exultation, even 
after the decisive triumph of yesterday, one thought weighs 
on my mind — one fear which I endeavor in vain to shake off, 
and yet the realization of which might be the source of new 
disasters and irreparable ruin to our enterprise, — I fear I shall 
die before I succeed in the overthrow of my enemy. 

All. God forbid, good duke ! 

Duke. I am mortal : death may strike me at any hour ; 
but I have provided for what may come, and therefore, ac- 
cording to the custom of my ancestors and to the laws of our 
country, I name my successor. Should I die in this struggle, 
behold my only, my legitimate heir in my son Julio. 

All. Long life to our worthy lord duke and his son Julio! 

Rice. Long life to the legitimate heir of Spoleto! ( They 
bring a crown /<9 Julio. The Duke -places it oti his head.) 

Bal. And soon of Macerata! I will venture that I shall 
yet bring him in. 

Steph. Tush, tush, Balthazar I you 're always boasting. 

Duke. My lords, do you promise obedience ? Do you 
pledge yourselves to serve the interest of my heir and suc- 
cessor ? 

All. {^Raisiitg their hands.) We pledge ourselves to 
serve him, and may God help us ! 

Duke. Then, let it be heralded throughout our dominions. 



THE RECOGNITION. 3^5 

Let our loyal subjects rejoice and the foe tremble in his last 
retreat, for now we will march on Macerata and there plant 
our banners. 

Jul. My lord duke and much honored father, permit me 
to acknowledge the marks of kindness you have shown tow- 
ard me, especially this last and least expected; and also, allow 
me, before you depart for new scenes of danger, to ask to fol- 
low you, with my companions Lorenzo and Gratiano. For 
three years I have not quitted these walls, and scarcely know 
the meaning of the great dignity you have just conferred on 
me. / also desire to win fame and renown, and render my- 
self worthy to command. 

Duke. And you would wish to share our dangers and our 
glory before Macerata ? My son, an accident might happen 
to you ; you are yet inexpert. 

All. We will protect him — we will defend him! 

Duke. And which of you will pledge his life for Julio's? 

Bal. I will. I'll pledge it ten times over. 

Jul. My lord duke, Balthazar has been ever faithful to 
me. It is to him that I owe mv knowledge in archery. With 
him I feel secure. 

Duke. Let your wishes be gratified. Balthazar, you 
answer for Julio, on your life; mind my word! 

Bal. I shall, my lord! Zounds! What is he thinking 
about! There is no danger where I am. 

Duke. And now let us depart. Riccardo, you shall lead 
the van of the army. I will command the centre, and Fabi- 
ano shall bring up the rear and see to the baggage-trains and 
supplies. 

Fab. Your Excellency, everything is in readiness. 

D>UKE. Forward, then; all, on to Macerata. 

All. Macerata! Macerata! 

Steph. (Aside to Balthazar.) Did you notice how sad 
Julio looked? 

Bal. I did. Bull of Bashan! something goes wrong. I 
shall soon know it. (Exeunt^ r. 2 & 3 e., all in solemn order. 
Martial music.^ 



j6 THE RECOGNITION. 



ACT FOURTH. 

SCENE I.— The Besieged Town. 

Interior of a large church, where armed men are congregated, all in 
kneeling attitude. In the centre of the farthest end of the church is 
Bartolo, also kneeling, half turned awav from the front of the stage. 
A solemn chant is heard, and when it has died away, in the midst of 
the greatest silence Bartolo rises, advances, and addresses the kneel- 
ing assembly. 

Bartolo. Friends, and my companions, we have just in- 
voked the last blessing of God on our well-nigh ruined hopes. 
This is the most solemn moment of our lives, because, prob- 
ably, the last given to us to breathe freely before the foe shall 
load our hands and feet with chains, and cast us into gloomy 
dungeons. God avert, my friends, this degradation from us, 
who for three years have fought in defence of our sacred 
rights! It is true, we have lost everything. We are now 
reduced to the defence of the last remnant of Macerata's 
power. It must be upheld at any cost. It must never be 
said that we have faltered at the supreme hour. Let not the 
enemy pride himself on his conquest, and boast that he will 
reap the cost of his labors. Would that I could be heard by 
ever}' Maceratan at this solemn moment! would that I could 
inspire with my own sentiments those who talk of terms and 
surrender! I would say to them: You have lost everything 
— your prestige is gone, your glory is of the past, your goods 
are to be the booty of the victor. Why should you preserve 
them for him? Why lower yourself to become beggars of 
the Spoletan in your own princely town? Destroy it; let not 
one stone remain upon another, and out of ever}- ruin let a 
rampart be made, and defy the foe! 

{Enter Pietko, l. -i e. ) 

PiETRO. My commander, a deputation of the citizens of 
the town desire to be introduced. 

A Few. Yes, let them come; they have semething to say 
in the matter. 

{Ejiter Alkkk ro, Gabrini, Castello ««c/Orazzi, l. 2 e. 
They bo%v respectfully.) 

Alberto. Count Bartolo, we beg to submit to you our 
wishes,. and those of the people. 



THE RECOGNITION. 37 



Bart. Are you sure you speak in the name of the 
people? What do the people say? 

Alb. They are reduced to their last morsel. They can 
stand it no longer. 

Bart. And they speak of surrender? 

Alb. Or whatever you say. It is for you to decide in 
the name of the prince. 

Bart. Well, listen to me, and carry them my answer. I, 
Bartolo, in the name of the prince of Macerata, my sovereign 
and yours ~I bid you summon the people and tell them that 
we will try one last effort to drive back the enemy. Tell 
them to flock to the standard of the prince, who is now on 
the walls preparing for a sortie. Should they hesitate, tell 
them that I, who have lost everything in your defence — I, 
who mourn even my own son's murder at the hands of the bar- 
barous foe with whom they intend to treat, — tell them that I 
shall never surrender, and woe to the Spoletans whom 1 shall 
meet! Woe to the duke, should I meet him in battle! And 
God forbid! He, too, has a son. May he never fall into 
Bartolo's hands! 

All. Bravo, bravo! Bartolo, we will stand by you. 

Alb. Rely on us. Count Bartolo ; we shall do our 
duty, and all the people of Macerata with us. We prefer to 
die rather than surrender ! 

Bart. {To Citizens.) Go forth, then, and tell the people 
that the enemy is now pressing the forces of the prince at the 
western gate i^exeimt)\ and you, my companions, go to your 
commands, and rouse your men to do their duty. [Exeunt^ 
L.2E. As Bartolo is about to leave^ Gi acomo rushes in l. i e. ) 

Giac. Bartolo, my noble master! Everything is against 
us; the prince has just fallen, pierced to the heart by an arrow. 
He expired in my arms. 

B \RT. (Falling on his knees.) O God, have mercy on the 
remnant of a faithful people! Let Thy anger be appeased by 
this cruel blow. {Rises.) Giacomo, on me now devolves the 
first command. Go ! bid all the forces yet disposable to 
fly to the rescue where the prince has fallen, and sustain the 
shock of the enemy. They will, I fear, take advantage of the 
loss and overpower our forces. Go with all speed. {Exit 
Giacomo ; enter Silvio, l. 2 e.) 

Silvio. My lord, good news! the enemy is beaten back 
with heavy loss. Our men have followed them into their very 



38 THE RECOGNITION. 



entrenchments, and many prisoners are secured. The duke's 
son is among them, and the people would have torn him in 
pieces but for a tall soldier who was captured with him. 

Bart. The duke's son in our hands! Zounds! This is a 
just retribution. Oh, it is not too late for vengeance! Hurry 
back, and tell the people that whoever touches the boy shall 
answer for the least injury done to him with his own life. By 
all means let him be preserved for the ransom of the town. 
Now we can treat with the proud Spoletan; we shall see if he 
will defy us now. Go — quick! Wait! let the two prisoners 
be thrown into the dungeon, of the fortress; give my orders. 

Sii.. Iwill do so at once. {Exit^ r. 2 p:.) 

Bart. If I had my choice between the duke's defeat and 
death, and this chance of revenge, I think I would choose the 
latter. For years I have waited to avenge the injury done to 
me. For years I have sought my Antonio, until I knew for 
certain that he was no more. But now in exchange I have 
his son — his only son, too. It is well that there is justice in 
heaven. But let me forget my own thirst for vengeance, and 
see if the duke will come to terms. {^He writes.') Here is 
my message to him: "Duke of Spoleto, the chan(!!es of war 
have placed thy son in my hands; be not rash, but consider 
my proposition: thou shalt forthwith abandon the siege of 
Macerata, and retire from the lands of the prince. In case 
thou dost not immediately conform to our terms, thy son shall 
forfeit his life.— Bartolo." Ho, here! (^/2/^rPACiFico,R.2E.) 
Go with this message to the walls, and hoist the flag of truce; 
this is important; it must reach the duke immediately; go! 
{Exeunt Bartolo, l. 2 e., and Pacifico, r. 2 e.) 

SCENE II.— Prison. 

Balthazar and Julio are brought in, r. 2k., followed by the Jailer with 
keys, and a Blacksmith with chains. 

Jail. Here, you grizzly Ganymede, and you, my lamb, 
here's your lodging for the present. 

Bal. The fellow must be well patronized to keep such 
rooms in his house! Curse them for getting me into this trap! 

Jul. Balthazar, do not irritate him; he miglit do us more 
harm. 

. Bal. Tush, you boy! Is this a place for civil people to 
be quartered.? Zounds! I have a mind to thump the fellows 
and crawl out. 



THE RECOGNITtON. 39 



Jail. What do you say ? Oh, be not afraid, we will not 
let you stay here. {Going away.) Zucchi, do your duty; 
that will quell him a little. {Exit^ r. 3 e.) 

Bal. Imbecile that I have been! Zounds! if I can lo^ive 
him his pay sometime! 

Zuc. Hallo, my fine fellows! It is not so bad after all; 
many a poor wretch gets worse than this, and but for that 
little urchin you might be now swinging from the top of the 
tower. Well, it is not my fault. One must live, and if you 
give me a trifle I will not riddle your skin too bad. 

Jul. Cruel man! So you imagine that we need your pin- 
cer's work on us! 

Zuc. It is the order, my lamb. Do you see I am paid for 
the trouble, and faith it is not too much for us poor people to 
bleed you a little. 

Bal. Look here, man! will you desist from fastening the 
tender boy's limbs? I will give you double pay. 

Zuc. Think he would swoon, eh.^ Hi, hi, hi! 

Bal. For shame! The man has no heart that we can 
reach. Go on; do your work; I will pay for two, but I will 
get my money back, I promise you! 

Zuc. ^Fastening the irons on Balthazar's feet.) By Ju- 
piter! it is not every man's shoes that you could wear — hem! 

Jul. Man, my father will reward you if you are kind to 
us. 

Zuc. I know that voice! Sure as I live, 1 have heard it 
before. It sounds like Antonio's voice. 

Bal. Why do you not go on? The sooner you dispatch 
us the better. 

Zuc. That will come soon enough, as we have no bread 
to waste; but tell me, man, is this the duke's son? 

Bal. Guess: you are an old fox as well as a wolf. 

Zuc. {Working.) Does not hurt you, eh? 

Bal. I am much obliged to you, sir — quite comfortable. 

Zuc. Now, your turn, boy. What is your age? 

Jul. Seventeen, sir. 

Bal. Julio, I command you to hold your tongue. Indeed, 
the fellow wants to question us a little more than I am in hu- 
mor to bear. Sir, fastened as I am, I can give you some trouble 
yet; therefore, mind to do your work in quick time. 



40 THE RECOGNITION. 



Zuc. Hallo, sir, you speak like a book! 

Bal. Like one who cares little where he leaves his bones. 

Jul.. Ah, ah, sir, you hurt me horribly! 

Zuc. 'Tis nothing — nothing at all. You see, your foot is 
too small; I have to press your ankles a little. [J^/ses.) 

Bal. Be firm, Julio; do not wince, boy. I have shot 
enough of these vultures to pay for it now. Zounds! that last 
gay jerkin I laid low was no hare, forsooth! I was no bung- 
ler that time, but I was a fool to stare at his struggling for 
sweet life. I was a fool to tear my silk scarf and hind his 
wounds, as if he had been my brother, but it shook me to see 
a fellow-creature so discomforted. It made my heart ache. 
Then I was gobbled up by those heartless knaves. 

Zuc. And for it you will be greeted by the next tree. Sir 
Crossbow-man, for the gay jerkin was the Prince of Macer- 
ata himself. This is worth a purse full of gold to me. Good- 
bye; I will meet you again. {^Exit., l. 2 e.) 

Jul. {^Nearly fainting., falling on Balthazar's arms.) 
Balthazar, I am horribly tortured; I feel as if I were dying; 
all my bones ache. Balthazar, when shall we leave this 
dreary prison? 

Bal. ( On one knee., and 7'esting Julio on the other.) Now 
I am undone! Curse them! I had sworn that neither want 
nor harm should come to him, and now to have him confined 
in this confounded hole! 

Jul. [In lower voice.) Balthazar, I have something on 
my mind to tell you, as we are alone. 

Bal. (Aside.) L fear he is delirious. 

Jul. {^Speaking slowly.) Balthazar, you have been de- 
ceived concerning me; my name is not Julio; I am not the 
son of the duke. 

Bal. Now he is crazed. Oh, those vultures! 

Jul. My name is Antonio, and my father's name was 
Bartolo; ay, ay! The duke took me from my father when I 
was much younger, and brought me up as his son JuHo, whom 
T resembled, he said. My father was killed near Montefalco, 
so the duke told me: and now, O Balthazar, I have said all, 
I am ready to die. 

Bal. Good Heavens! what story is this? The boy seems to 
have his senses, and tell the truth. Oh, I remember the arrow 
and the letter now. As I live, Antonio and Bartolo were men- 



THE RECOGNiTiON. 



tioned there. But it was after the battle. Bartolo cannot be 
dead, then. I am puzzled. Ah, some one is coming, Julio; 
wake up, stand up, Julio; they come for us. {Enter Jailer, 

R. 2 E.) 

Jail. {Abruptly.) Now, my pets, your turn is coming; 
it will not be long. [Enter Orlando, r. i e.) 

Orlando. ( To the Jailer.) Sir, I command here! 
You have not a word to say to these prisoners. Sir Cross- 
bowman, you are accused of the prince's murder; you will 
therefore accompany the son of the Duke of Spoleto, and 
with him receive your sentence from the commander himself. 

Bal. Well, this one is a polite cut-throat! Ready, sir; 
come, Julio, let me help you, poor lamb! 

Jul. Balthazar, let me pass my arm around you. Now I 
can walk. ( They go off., r, 3 e., slowly., dragging the irofis.) 



SCENE III.—Tent of the Duke. 

Duke. {^After writing an order.) It is strange I feel as 
I do. I believe it is the first time in my life that I have ever 
doubted of success when success was within my reach. ( Walks 
excitedly.) Fool that I am! can I not shake off these impres- 
sions? Perhaps too much success has accustomed me so little 
to the idea of opposition that the mere thought is a heavy 
weight on my soul. {Thoughtfully.^ The only reverse 
which may befall me is in the resistance of the Maceratans. 
True, their town can stand a long siege; they are resolute, 
and they have expert leaders. But what of that? I will starve 
them out, and bar all access to supplies. We shall then see 
if our good prince will not come to teims. Terms! no; I 
shall accept no terms. He must perish. Better for him to 
p -rish sword in hand, and spare me the necessity of staining 
my glory with his blood. Bartolo, too, must perish! He 
above all! Bartolo, my most dangerous foe, must be quickly 
disposed of. I could bear to see the prince a fugitive through 
the land; but Bartolo is a spy, an accuser, an avenger, 
wherever he is. Let me see; suppose I send in a proposition 
— yes, ha, ha, ha! — a hand-to-hand combat with him, on the 
result of which shall depend my withdrawal from the town or 
its surrender. I will send the proposition to the prince; per- 
haps he will accept. {He writes.) " I, duke of Spoleto, 
pledge myself — " {Enter Riccardo, l. i e., in haste.) 



4^ 'tU'E RECOGNITION. 



Ricc. My lord, my lord, I am the bearer of good news; 
the prince has just been killed outside of the ramparts; his 
body is in our hands. 

Duke. Thanks to Heaven! Riccardo, you shall have 
your reward for such good news. How are our prospects of 
success ? 

Rice. Fair, indeed; another day and the town shall be 
ours. 

Duke. Riccardo, go back; bring me the news of Bartolo's 
death, and the principality of Macerata is yours. Despatch is 
necessary, for the enemy will no doubt deal us a heavy blow 
to avenge their loss. 

Rice. I go, my lord ; remember your promise. {Exit^ l.i e.) 

Duke. A promise is a good stimulant, I fancy. But what 
do I see? Our men are driven back; the foe is on us. (Fa- 
BiANO rushes In^ l. 3 e.) 

Fab. My lord, we need reinforcements immediately; we 
are losing ground. They have driven our forces two hun- 
dred yards from the walls, and recaptured the prince's body. 

Duke. What do you say? Are you mad, Fabiano? Are 
not Balthazar and his crossbow-men at their work? 

Fab. I have just lost sight of him in the melee. But he 
lacks men, my lord. The enemy is driven to desperation. 

Duke. Tou are driven to desperation. What! Fly be- 
fore a handful of men! Shame, for shame! 

Leon. {^Rushiitg in^ l. 2 e., breathless.') My lord — . 

Duke. What ominous news does he bring? 

Leon. Horrible! Ju — ^Julio is — captured. 

Duke. What! captured? — Julio? Are you mad? 

Leon. True, as I say, my lord: Julio is captured, and 
Balthazar too! 

Duke. Desperation! All to the rescue! follow me! 
{^Exeunt all. l. 3 e., except Leonardo.) 

. Leon. {^Raising up his hands ^ asto7inded.) vSan Petruc- 
chio! what a misfortune! 

Steph. [Entering., r. i e., amazed.) What is to be done? 
Have you all gone crazv in this awful uproar? Where are 
they all going? 

Leon. Going! Why, man, I thought you were captured! 
Do I behold Stephano? 



ruM RECOGNITION. 43 



Steph. {^Lookin^ at himself.) To be sure! what else could 
I be? 

Leon. A corpse, sir. 

SrEPH. A corpse! And why so, sir? (^Aside.) The 
manV mind is gone, surely. {Looks out in the direction of 
the city^ l.) Rut see the duke. Ay! hearken to the trumpets! 

IvEON. ( Sneering.) He;irken to the trumpets, do you not? 
Some one must have unearthed you this moment, for the 
trumpet's blast is deafening us the last three days. {^Looks 
toward the city.) But see the duke on his gray charger, 
springing on the foe! 

Steph. Good Heavens! what rashness! Did you ever 
see? [Sees Rice ar do brought in ivounded.^ l.) Oh, horror! 
my lord Riccardo wounded! 

Rice. Lay me here, men, and go back to protect the duke, 
The day is won! Go, go! 

Leon. {Looking sadly on Riccardo.) Can I assist you, 
my lord? 

Rice. All help is useless. Do not stay idling around me. 
Go to the ramparts; there work is in plenty. Julio is not 
rescued yet 

Steph. {Astounded.) What! Julio not rescued! What 
does he mean? 

Leon. {Forcibly.) He means that when you were dream- 
ing in some corner of the camp, Julio was captured while he 
was fighting bravely at Balthazar's side. Cowardly old peda- 
gogue! 

Steph. {Oppressed with emotion.) Julio, my poor boy, 
is captured? Oh, let me go — what can I do to save him? 

Leon. ( Taking off his sword.) Here is a sword, man. 
There, you see the enemy; there are the walls. You must 
kill the first and storm the others! 

Steph. L must! you say. Yes, I may as well die now. 
[Exit Steph ANO, l. 3 e., hurriedly.) 

Leon. (Sees him gone.) Lideed he is gone! Poor man! 
What can he do for Julio, except to share his fate? {Looking 
at Riccardo.) My lord! {No answer.^ My lord! Alas! 
he too is dead. {Lakes Riccardo's sword.) It would be 
cowardice not to avenge so many misfortunes. I swear I 
will not be the last in the breach. {Exit., l. 3 E.) 

{^Enter Pacifico, r. 2 e., the messenger (^/'Baktolo.) 



44 "I'HE RECOGNITION. 



Paciffco. [Lookhig on.) What do I behold? Is not 
this the ducal escutcheon ? Yes — deserted! [Sees Riccardo.) 
No! a dead man here. Unfortunate! thy hour, too, has 
come. But the duke, where is he? {Aloud.) Ho! some one 
here! No one comes. Here I will leave my message. [Goes 
to place it on a table^ and Jinds there the letter of the Duke 
/o Bartoi.o.) What is this? [Reads.) " I, Duke of vSpoleto, 
pledge myself to retire from the walls of Macerata, in case of 
the fatal issue of the single combat to which I challenge Bar- 
tolo," etc. No doubt it was intended to be sent to its destina- 
tion. Joyously will I carry it, duke of Spoleto; for, thanks 
to Heaven, it will be thy doom. [Exit^ l. 3 e.) 

SCENE IV.— Hall of Justice. 
Bartolo and a feAv Guards. 

Bart. ( To the gj-iards.) Guards, watch with eager eye 
the advance of the enemy, for he must not overtake us, whilst 
we may yet do him harm and deal him the last blow which a 
merciless justice has placed in our power. ( To the warriors.) 
That we have lost all is well known to you, brave men; we 
now but wait the doom which, few as we are, we cannot ex- 
pect to elude. I have done all in my power to dictate terms 
which I thought the duke would accept. The threatened 
death of his son, in case he should not comply with our just 
desires, has had no effect. Let him, therefore, take all respon- 
sibility on himself alone for what I have pledged myself to 
do. And when, sword in hand, he shall enter this hall, let 
the lifeless body of his boy greet him. Then he will know 
what it has cost him to gain a ruined city, now reeking with 
the blood of its murdered inhabitants. 

All. It is but justice. Let it have its course. 

Bart. Guards, bring in the prisoners. 
i^Enter Balthazar, preceded by an officer.^ followed by two 

7nen., l. 2 e. Balthazar conceals the boy from Bartolo 

by placing himself in front of hi?n.) 

Bal. Come, Julio! I have shown you how to behave in 
battle — I will show you how to die. 

Jul. I am not afraid, friend. 

Bart. Whose voice is that? [Steps forward.) Whom 
do I see? Heaven, have pity on me, it is my Antonio! [Rushes 
towards J u 1.10.) 



THE RECOGNITION. 45 

Bal. {^Keephtg him back.) A vaunt, man ! [^vlio be- 
holds Bartolo and recognizes him.) 

Jul. Ah ! my father ! {Rushes to his father ; they fall 
into each other'' s embrace.^ and retnain clasped. ) 

All. His father ! It is his son ! 

Bart. [Looking at Julio.) Is this a dream? Is it you, 
my Antonio? [Standing erect^ one arm around ]vi.io^ his 
siuord drawn; with defiant mein he looks at his men^ who., 
all with drawn szvords., cluster around.) Good God! I thank 
Thee! 

Bal. What must I believer Antonio — Bartolo! strike 
off my chains — I understand all now^! Give me a sw^ord! 

Bart. {Sadly.) It is late. It is sad to be happy, and 
yet to have to part. It is better, perhaps. 

Bal. Woe to the one who shall first show his face to me, 
I will swear! Bartolo, I will strike for thee! 

{Enter., from, back of stage., the Duke and a host of others., 
hurriedly., sword in hand. ) 

Duke. {^Pointing out Julio to his men.) Save him! 
{To Balthazar.) x\h! traitor! 

Bal. Never! Back, duke of Spoleto! {^Presses upon 
hi?n with his sword; they fght; all look on this strange 
spectacle; Julio is in his father'' s arms horrified.) 

Duke. [Palls., c.) Oh, spare me! Have pity on me! 

Bal. lyLooking on the prostrate form.) Wretched man! 
Justice has at last overtaken you! 

Duke. Bartolo, it is just; forgive my wrongs to thee! I 
claim thy pardon. Bartolo! Julio! 

Bart. Wretched man, I forgive you! Yes, here is mv 
hand. 

All. This is indeed a mystery! 

Bal. It is a mystery of theft and murder. 

Duke. It is ambition and ruin! Woe to me, for I have 
trifled with a father's love and with the blood of thousands! 

Bart. Duke of Spoleto, die in peace; I forgive you: 
Antonio forgives you. 

Jul. Ah! yes, with all my heart I forgive you. A child's 
forgiveness rest lovingly on you! 

Duke. God bless you, boy ! Let all remember that you 



4« 



th:e recognition. 



are my- heir, and love you as I did. Ah, mercy of God, I 
now sigh for thee. I die; good God, pity^mercy! 

Jul. (^Coming to him and lovingly raising his head.) 
We all forgive you, my lord. 

Duke. God bless you, Julio! i^He expires^ all remain 
in silence.^ 

Jul. He is dead! 

Bal. But you live, boy, a duke and a prince; it is enough. 

Jul. Say a king, for now I have my father! 

All. Long life to our duke! 

Mackratans. Long life to our prince! 

Bart. Let us return thanks to God, and may peace now 



•eign supreme, 



TABLEAU 



Slow, Plaintive Music. 




THE RECOGNITION. 47 



EPILOGUE 



Of self-deceit, the folly grave 

Is seen, in contra-t with the brave, 

Straightforward truth of open dealings. 

Which feels, yet weighs, another's feelingly. 

Had envious Spoleto given 

Less thought to earth and more to Heaven, 

Bartolo's fond, paternal heart 

Had felt not the keen, cruel dart 

Of grief at fair x\ntonio's loss; 

From his broad dukedom, many a loss 

Had been averted. But we see 

That crime from ju'^tice may not tlee : 

Happy, if it come not too late. 

Ah! if till death it shall await. 

Who, who, can tell its rigors there. 

Beyond the reach of hope, of prayer! 

But with delight the course we follow 

Of wronged and yet redressed Bartolo ; 

And thanking all our good friends present 

For lenient judgment, smiles so pleasant, 

We fondly trust that each one's jears. 

With change, successes, hopes and fears, 

Will turn out in as good condition 

As Julio's in "The Recognition!" 



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